


maybe i’ll just slow it down

by lumaxies



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, also they’re on a beach because why not, and not good, but we out here!, mormon tj, this is super short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 19:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17873858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumaxies/pseuds/lumaxies
Summary: It’s December, three months after his birthday, and his mom was expecting his mission papers any day now. She’s been bugging him about it since before he’d even turned eighteen, her lifelong dream of Facebook live-streaming some cringey video of T.J. opening an envelope that would determine the next three years of his life just within reach. And now? T.J. has to crush it.





	maybe i’ll just slow it down

T.J. curls his toes in the sand, closing his eyes and breathing in the ocean air. Standing on the beach has always felt like home to him- he misses Florida more than he realizes, sometimes- and he needs the freedom of the ocean now, more than ever.

 

It’s December, three months after his birthday, and his mom was expecting his mission papers any day now. She’s been bugging him about it since before he’d even turned eighteen, her lifelong dream of Facebook live-streaming some cringey video of T.J. opening an envelope that would determine the next three years of his life just within reach. And now? T.J. has to crush it.

 

The feeling that he’s letting his family down is sort of eating him alive. He’s had all this pressure on him since he was twelve years old to be worthy enough to enter the kingdom of God, to go on a mission, to share the message of the church with people all over the world. And he tried. He tried so hard to never listen to music with foul or inappropriate language, or watch TV shows that had unsavory topics. And it lasted until he was about fourteen, and he met Cyrus Goodman. And this kid, this dorky, hilarious, soft, fiercely confident, brave-hearted kid snuck into his heart, and changed his whole worldview.

 

He looks at Cyrus sometimes, and can’t help but be jealous. And it’s not a vicious thing, it’s really not. But, he watches the way that Cyrus can dance and laugh so freely in the ocean with Andi and Buffy; he watches Cyrus rejoice in his religion and culture, while still staying true to himself. He watches Cyrus light up when he walks in a room, and he feels his heart break every time he does. T.J. wants so desperately to be as open and bold as Cyrus. He wants to be able to hold his hand, and dance with him at prom in two months, and post cheesy Instagram pictures of the two of them just existing, but he doesn’t know how.

 

He sinks down into the sand, lying flat on his back, staring blankly at the sky. 

 

He wishes his brain would shut up.

 

. . . . .

 

“You doing okay?” Cyrus drops down into the sand beside him a few minutes later, looking down at him concernedly.

 

“Yeah,” T.J. swallows, avoiding his eyes. “Just...stuff.”

 

“You got a lot of stuff, huh?”

 

“You could say that.”

 

“What specifically is on your mind?” Cyrus looks at him with doe eyes, and T.J. is already melting,  _ goddammit _ . “If you want to tell me, of course.”

 

“You ever feel like everything you’re ever going to do for the rest of your life is gonna disappoint everyone who’s important to you?”

 

“Not...really?”

 

“Yeah, well,” T.J. shrugs, clenching his jaw and looking away. “I do.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because,” He turns back to Cyrus, his eyes saying what he couldn't out loud. “There’s no way that I can make my mom proud and be who I am. So, I have to make a choice.”

 

“You or her,” Cyrus nods sympathetically. “That sucks.”

 

“What would you do?” T.J. looks at him curiously, genuinely interested in his answer.

 

“Depends,” Cyrus flushes. “If this is about getting a nose piercing or something…”

 

“It’s nothing like that,”

 

“You need to do what makes you happy, Teej,” Cyrus reaches out for his hand, and T.J. offers it gladly. He weaves their fingers together, scooting closer, so he can lay down beside him, and rest his head on T.J.’s shoulder. “You’re the most amazing guy I know. You deserve at least that.”

 

T.J. nods against the top of Cyrus’ head, losing himself in the way his stomach jumps whenever Cyrus’ hair brushes his cheek.

 

. . . . .

 

“Hey,” T.J. is back in his bedroom at the cabin, where he had been since three o’clock that afternoon. It was six thirty now, just getting dark outside, and Cyrus is standing in the doorway, arms full, looking at him expectantly.“We’re all heading down to the beach for a bonfire. You wanna come?”

 

T.J. remains silent, and Cyrus sighs, setting the bundle of blankets in his arms down, and crouching beside T.J. 

 

“Still dealing with your stuff?”

 

T.J. nods, covering his eyes with his forearm. “How do you do it?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Be so proud of who you are.” T.J. whines, moving his arm, so he can look Cyrus in the eye. “You’re so…brave, and ethereal, and secure in who you are. How?”

 

Cyrus flushes. “Did you just call me ethereal?” T.J. turns away from him, and Cyrus sighs again, standing up and gesturing to the bed. “Can I sit?”

 

T.J. scoots over without question, and Cyrus tentatively lays down beside him. They relish in the silence for a few moments, before Cyrus breaks it.

 

“I’m not always proud.”

 

T.J. is surprised. “Really?”

 

“Sometimes, when I go to bed, and the lights are off, and it’s just me in my room, I think about it, and I hate myself.” Cyrus turns his head, looking directly at T.J., eyes seemingly seeing through him and into his soul. “I’m not ashamed to be gay. But, I know that people still think it’s weird, or unnatural, or whatever. It’s never been easy.”

 

T.J. shuffles to look at Cyrus, the pair now nose to nose. “You just seem so sure of yourself,”

 

“Yeah, well,” Cyrus shrugs, looking at T.J. fondly. Then, he stands, reaching out a hand, and swooping up his pile of blankets. “Looks can be deceiving. You wanna get going?”

 

. . . . .

 

He makes it forty-five minutes, which, in his defense, is way longer than he thought it’d be. He’s able to fake a smile, roast a few marshmallows, and even laugh at a few of Marty’s lame attempts to keep the conversation going. But now, as Amber dozed off on Jonah’s shoulder, and Buffy and Andi leaned into each other under a blanket, T.J. couldn’t handle the silence anymore. He stood silently, sweeping his flip flops up, and taking off down the beach.

 

There’s this spot, about a quarter of a mile away from where his friends are sitting, that’s kind of an ideal setting for wallowing in misery. It’s a little bit of a ledge, maybe six feet from the ground, and from there, he’s got a perfect view of the ocean waves pushing and pulling. It reminds him of his heartstrings, and the way they tug him towards Cyrus, the same way they push him towards everything he’s ever known.

 

“Hey, stranger,” A small voice calls from behind him, and then Cyrus is crawling beside him, swinging his legs over the edge, sitting shoulder the shoulder with T.J.

 

“You know,” T.J. laughs a little, weaker than he’d wanted to portray. “I've been in love with you since, like, the seventh grade.”

 

“What?”

 

“And it’s all your fault,” He can feel the tears hitting his cheeks now. The winds whips against his face, simultaneously chilling and blowing them away. “If you hadn’t sat on that stupid swing, and talked to me like you wanted to know the real me, and made feel all gooey, and gross, and weird inside, none of this shit would even be happening.”

 

“T.J…”

 

“And then, you invited me to your stupid bar mitzvah, and you told me that there’s nothing wrong with me, and you spent weeks after school with me helping me with my math homework, and you couldn’t even do a fucking  _ somersault  _ until I taught you how, and I just….”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer!” He yells, exasperated. “I don’t know how to say all the things I need to say! And I can’t help but feel like I’m fucking this whole thing up-“

 

Cyrus cuts him off effectively by placing his lips on T.J.’s, his hand resting warmly on his shoulder.

 

“Oh,” T.J. whispers when they pull away.

 

“Yeah,” Cyrus giggles. “Oh.”

 

“I didn’t think-“

 

“T.J.,” Cyrus breathes against his lips, kissing him chastely once again. “Just shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @mcboings uwu


End file.
